The Path to Glory or A Tale of Power
by Inquisitor Arnolis
Summary: a young refugee is taken to become a commisar but little does he know that there are great plans for him that have been set into motion by great and terrible powers


John Curtin It is the year 40,000 and mankind's galactic empire is crumbling, besieged from without and within by blood thirsty aliens and traitors, humanity now faces extinction. Protected by fleets of powerful warships in space, and the uncounted billions of imperial guards men on the ground. Mankind's only hope rests in the eternally vigilant immortal Emperor and his legions of genetically engineered soldiers, the space marines. It is the 41st millennium and there is only WAR!  
  
The Path to glory  
  
"It was a turbulent time in the history of the Imperium. The thirteenth crusade has ended, leaving much of the Imperium in ruins. Taking the opportunity to swoop in and the already weakened imperials, hundreds of alien races swept into imperial space, conquering dozens of worlds. Among those worlds was Aoenor IV. The monstrous tyranids swept in intent on destroying all life in the sector. Nearby were several military convoys returning back to their homes after the war. They were called in to help the beleaguered PDF forces and repel the tyranids. Many heroes died in the war, and dozens more were made. Among all of the warriors, a boy of 15 years of age was almost killed. As he lay in the medicae hall, undergoing transplant surgery, someone had noticed something in the wounded boy and had made great plans for him. The boy's name was Beowulf Friedson"- Introduction to A brief history of the 41st millennium written by Scribe Lucius Caponis.  
  
Chapter 1 "Smells like an ork shower block" -Inquisitor Lord Jal upon entering novice dormitories  
  
A dark figure stood in the shadows, its long coat billowing in the wind, a flash of forked lightning illuminates the area for a split second, an after image of sharp eyes and a strong face rapidly dissolves. There is a puff of an iho- stick and he is gone, his footsteps disappearing into the night wind.  
  
Twenty years earlier....... Scholam student Beowulf sat on the flagstones of the schola waiting for his commissar escort to arrive he heard some one approach him from behind and spun to look at them. He saw two boys his own age. One of them approached Beowulf and introduced himself. He said his name was Gregor Eisenhorn, and said the other was named Julius Hark. Once the commissar returned, he was led to the dormitories and a bed was already set up for him. He felt the stares of his dorm mates and could not blame them. His face and most of his torso were badly burned and his legs just metal replacements. His world had been invaded by tyranids and had been almost lost if not for a combined force of two space marine chapters and several regiments of imperial guard. His friends had died when his former educatoria had been swarmed with fanged nightmares and his mother and brothers were killed when a fallen spacecraft destroyed their refuge. In the mad scramble to reach safety in a nearby medical facility, he and dozens of others had been left for dead among the wreckage of the warehouse. His father was deemed Killed in Action following the last assault and his body was found under a pile of 'nid corpses. He was taken by an inquisitor named Kryptman and brought to this world. The journey had been long. Even with the mighty warp-engines of the Apocalypse class cruiser I had taken over fifty days to reach the planet- moon of Apace III. It was a quiet agri-world populated by 15 million head of grox and about 16 million humans. Few expected that the peace of their world would soon be shattered. Beowulf was unable to keep his mind off of the journey to the scholam.  
It was during the night-cycle in their eighth day of warp travel, most of the crew were either asleep or praying. That was when it came. Beowulf awoke with a start to see the walls of his room ripple like the surface of a lake. Out of the ripples a grotesque face appeared. It had a vaguely human structure but was dark red in hue, it had dark, matted hair and carried a huge axe. As it drew closer, his door burst open and a massive gout of flame washed over the beast. As the vision disappeared, he turned to see a hulking figure in the doorway, the figure ducked into the room and grabbed Beowulf and dragged him into the ship's cathedral. He had spent the rest of the journey in there, guarded by Grey Knights and preachers. Since the invasion and his coming to the Scholam, he had been having massive headaches and had strange dreams. He had been going to the schola's apothecaries and they had found nothing wrong with him. It didn't really interfere with his training. But it seemed that whenever he was around the Headmaster he felt nauseous and felt like something evil was trying to get out. To take his mind off those thoughts he worked even harder at his courses.  
  
He occasionally found himself in the chambers of the resident commissar, the famous Ciaphas Cain, the hero of Galbatroc VIII. He spent countless hours discussing tactics and listening to the two hundred and twenty year old veteran's roguish tales, his role embellished a little bit in points of heroism and bravery. Several years after his arrival, Beowulf's mentor and teacher died in his sleep. Somehow, some way, Beowulf knew that something about the normally healthy and robust man's death that unsettled him. He had little idea about how right he actually was...  
The funeral was on a rainy day. Few were there since most of the commissar's friends were all dead. As the coffin was laid inside the tomb, a bolt of lightning struck a tree behind the next grave. Few noticed as they were all watching Beowulf. He had especially taken the death of his mentor hard and it seemed that everyday he was getting more and more upset. His friends had on a number of occasions tried to cheer him up but he paid little attention to their efforts. As the week dragged on events that would change the galaxy were set into motion..  
  
It was the ten thousandth anniversary of Horus's defeat, when the Headmaster summoned them all to the armored auditorium. All five thousand of them crowed the cavernous hall, wondering why this usual event had happened, why weren't they all at the cathedral giving thanks to the mighty figure that ensured their freedom from the twisted whims of chaos so many years ago. As the last of the students entered the hall, silence fell and the only sound was the breath of tens of thousands of lungs.  
  
"Students, instructors, honorable guests, I welcome you all," the headmaster's loud booming voice echoed around the room, amplified by vox- projectors and the natural formations of the hall. "I have summoned you all here to witness an event that we have striven for all these years." He pulled something out of his long ceremonial robes and held it aloft. Six thousand voices gasped five thousand of them students, one thousand, officers, stormtroopers, and defense masters. All of their eyes were locked on the grotesque object held in his hands those who were aspiring to be chaoticians gasped as they realized what it was. With a flash of light and spurts of blood, one hundred stormtroopers fell to the ground bleeding out of their eyes, mouths and ears. Another flash and officers and defense masters fell to the ground their bodies rapidly mutating. Panicked students started screaming and milling around in terror. The doors were fused shut by the vile warp magic and the officers and defense masters bodies had been transformed into slavering monsters that killed students with swipes of their hands. Beowulf saw Gregor and Julius in the press and shouted out to them. Once they had reached him, he organized a plan to get the students out.  
  
"That is insane, Beo," exclaimed Julius, upon hearing the plan, "you won't last a minute against that Daemon", referring to what the head master had become. "It's the only way; we may all have to sell ourselves in order to save our fellows' lives. It is like what instructor Ibn always says; the lives of a few outweigh the lives of the many." So then, Beo made a dash for the leader, his former educator. The monstrosity turned and vaporized Beo's right arm. Undaunted, Beo ran and SLAMMED into the beast. The thrust his still hissing stump of his left arm into the monster's face. The beast roared with surprise and pain, and then smashed Beo's ribcage so hard that slivers of the bones drove into his already overworked heart. On the other side of the caverns, Julius and Gregor were having an easier time with the smaller daemons. The smaller beasts were thankfully very stupid so they lured the screeching creatures to the door and stood in front of the doors so the daemons smashed them with their ponderous claws. Once the doors were open, the students streamed out and the Scholam strike troops poured in and opened up with hellgun, bolter and las gun. The minor daemons fell to the floor shrieking and some once again mutated into their original forms. The remaining students filed out silently in a stupefied state. The strike troops found the crushed and bloodied body of Beo crumpled on the altar sprawled before a statue of the Emperor. The daemon lay rapidly dissolving on the ceiling impaled by a hanging stalicilite. "No boy would be able to have done that, not even a space marine could have done that." An excited guard captain exclaimed about the twelve-ton beast that was being scraped off the roof by servitors. It was true, no boy's muscles could do that but his brain could. This certainly was a large factor in the meeting in the inquisitor's cabins. Here he learned many things, they had been underground for twenty years, and not even under ground at that, the power needed for the summoning had to come from the warp itself, and no-where else, so to counter this, the daemon moved the Scholam into the warp. It had taken seven infantry regiments, one company of Grey knights and six armored regiments to breach the daemon's defenses which were manned by corrupted space marines of the Iron Warriors legion and several heretical regiments. This was not a surprise because Beo's heightened senses detected a slight slip in reality and had come to the conclusion that something unnatural was going on outside. As he lay on the operating table in the cruiser, hundreds of thoughts flew through his mind. Why was he still alive, was he really alive at all, was this all a dream created by his mind to ease the pain and trauma of death, or was this all true and was he going to be killed for being a psyker. He closed his eyes and took a deep mind clearing breath. Next he took his fingers and pinched his right arm. He felt pain, which was good and bad because it meant the he was still alive, and the interrogators would still be able to harm him. He thought a moment about the possibility of him still dying soon either of his wounds or his psychic abilities. He wondered if his soul would still go to eternal happiness at the Emperor's side or if the ravenous gods of chaos would consume it. Behind what looked like a solid wall, Inquisitor Arnolis saw the boy's heart rate suddenly spike and called for the medical servitors. In the twisted realms of dreams, strange and new images came to Beo. A space marine with twin swords in silver and black armor, the form of the defeated daemon, the Emperor telling him to always be on guard, and a picture of himself fighting a man with a ruined face. Arnolis saw this also and became worried. If he did not take this boy into his care and train him to be an inquisitor, he could be a terrible enemy to the Imperium perhaps even more then Horus and his hordes. He remembered being a novice himself and shuddered when he thought of the tests the boy would go through. Both Arnolis and Beo bid farewell to the valuable images of both past and future as Beo began to stir. As Beowulf began to awaken, a shape appeared. After some time, it began to get clearer until Beowulf was able to see the shape of a power armored warrior. A voice that sounded like the pealing of a great bell rang out through his skull. "Awaken young warrior, awaken and claim your destiny as my heir!" the golden clad warrior bellowed. Beowulf's vision became a tunnel and then he woke to a brilliant white light and decided he was already dead.  
  
CHAPTER 2: THE ARRIVAL  
"Yes, I see"  
-Captain Wassi upon loosing his eyesight  
  
Two and a half weeks later Beo gazed in wonder at the planet below, countless millions of ships circled the steel gray orb and on their voyage in, they had passed countless wonders. To name a few were the armored planet of Pluto, one of the ancients' "space stations" the forge world of Mars and now, he had his first glimpse of Terra. As they passed by dozens of battle fleets, orbital defense emplacements and were bombarded with security checks, Beo noticed that they were not going the way the other ships were. He decided to ask a nearby armsman. The man turned and removed his helmet visor as Beowulf approached him.  
  
"Is there anything you need laddy?" he asked through a bushy beard. "Yes sir, do you know where we are gong?" replied Beowulf unable to keep his voice from waving in and out. The man was about to answer when a large shadow loomed behind the boy. The guard muttered a hasty good bye and hurried off, desperate to find some menial task to complete. They headed to what Beo guessed to be the poles and docked with a strange looking ship and were then shuttled to the surface. He was blindfolded and drugged for the entire journey through the Inquisition's Citadel and he woke up at the end of an enormous line of people. Ahead, he saw a mammoth structure and the huge bulks of battle titans. He was once again knocked into a state of awe as he found that this was the Imperial Palace, the holiest place in the entire Imperium. He passed the banners bearing the crest of every regiment ever raised by the Imperial guard, the standards and pennants borne by the mightiest heroes ever known and the chapter banners of hundreds of astartes chapters. Another chamber followed the last, filled with plaques, as Beo leaned closer to one, he discovered that it was a kill record for a Warlord titan by the name of Nostrus Messiah and gazed in wonder at the achievements of the first battle titan.  
As his hike continued, he passed by the other pilgrims. He was led into a conduit and emerged into a large command center. Here lived the fabled Adeptus Custodes, the Terran Guard. Each man was worth ten or more space marines and the near mythical Centurion was equal to a regiment of normal men. The very same man stood in front of Beowulf. He was massive, three meters tall and two meters wide. He was encased in a suit of black adamite and gold. He stared down at Beowulf with eyes as dull as granite. After several seconds of silence, the Centurion spoke. "Do you reject the ideals of the dark gods and strive to uphold the Light of the Emperor?" Unsure of what to say, Beowulf automatically replied "I do" "Will you never speak of your encounter and if you do accept death?"  
The questions went on and on until finally, something changed in the Centurion's face. "Then you may go, don those garbs and grab some rest, young sir. You out of several million have been deemed worthy."  
Then the Centurion did something no-one had seen in four hundred years, he smiled. A bewildered day later, Beo was ready to meet his god. Two grim members of the adeptus custodes opened the inner sanctum's doors and Beo stepped inside... At first glimpse, he was puzzled, where was the emperor, and what was this huge machine doing here? As he looked a second time he saw the emperor. The Golden Throne was being dragged out of the armored Sanctuary into the throne room. Beo threw himself flat as he felt the piercing psychic gaze of the Emperor sweep over him and heard the guards mutter something as they moved to bring another machine out of the darkness. A robed figure emerged after it, clutching wires and cables in his claw- like hands. Beo was seconds away from becoming the most powerful psyker in the entire Imperium.  
  
"Now hold still whelp, I must attach the neurolink cable to the brainstem in order for this to work." "Power and glory to the machine, DEUS EST MECHANICA!" Suddenly, Beowulf felt himself sucked out of his body and felt himself sucked into a strong channel of ethereal wind. He saw a plain below and two seats arranged on a plateau.. The two mightiest psykers sat facing each other. One was a teenage boy no older than seventeen; the other was a shriveled husk of the most powerful human in history. As the ritual began, the hounds outside of the palace and other psykers on the planet cringed and whimpered as the soul binding began. Beo felt the memories and thoughts of the Emperor enter his mind; a swirling whirlwind of emotions and senses, he saw the devastation wrought by the hordes of Horus; he saw the primarchs, being launched one by one into the galaxy. He was the second human to see the creation of the mightiest human government ever. He wept with joy as the emperor spoke directly to him, although half-dead, his mind was still alive and was telling him of future glory. The entire process took over a year, and though unnoticed by the psychics, things outside were changing. Beowulf Friedson emerged from the palace, and strode to the waiting land speeder. He waited patiently as the human driver, slow in reactions and thought wove through the skyline at a nerve wracking rate. Beo shrugged, as he knew that he would never see his friends Julius or Gregor again but was optimistic about his new career of an Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus. Once again he was drugged as he was brought into the dormitories of the fortress, his sixth sense detected gazes of humans and Grey Knights alike as they sized him up in case he was a potential enemy. He was sat down on a firm but yielding surface and unbound. He gazed around at his private room; it had spartan furnishings, a dresser, a simple but comfortable bed, and a pictograph of terra. He was bidden to get up and was made to find his way to the Inquisitor General in less then forty minutes with no assistance. He made it there in only 20 seconds, using his telekinetic and psychic manipulation abilities. He punched in the number for the guard house and answered the terse questions. "Qui es tu?" "I am a loyal servant of the God emperor of mankind." "What is your quest?" "I am here to become an inquisitor of the glorious Imperium of man. As he entered the General's quarters, he was taken aback by the extravagance of the decorations. There was a huge nalwood desk in the corner, no doubt encrusted with hidden weapon pods, a bed with a built in suspensor field, and finally a weapon rack, complete with a suit of power armor and plasma and bolter rifles and pistols. Lord General Inquisitor Ario Barzano was obviously a man who liked to be protected. As Beo let his mind look around the cavernous room he felt three others were present and felt a groan as he obviously penetrated a psychic shield unveiling the eversor assassin behind it. Through the armorglass windows, he could see that snow was falling on Nemesis Terrisera and it had already piled up to ten meters since his arrival, which was just fifteen minutes ago. Across the way, other novices had engaged in a spirited snowball fight which was quickly joined by the garrison unit of Tanith and Vergastite ghosts. As the Lord General spoke, Beo quickly turned towards him. As the hours passed, he learned that he was to go on an assassin mission on the planet Kasr Holn in the unstable Cadian system. Within seven minutes, he was in the spacious armory, looking at different types or rifles. Upon seeing all of the different models, designs and shapes, he chose one that could penetrate one solid meter of armor, and could fit into his coat pocket. Soon afterwards, he was on an ancient transport, hurtling towards his objective.  
  
CHAPTER 3: THE MISSION  
  
"my brain hurts."  
-(attr.)Julius hark after taking the inquisition entrance test Beo pressed the rune on the control panel marked, distress beacon and went into the savior pod to wait until a ship came to investigate. He didn't have to wait long as a chaos assault boat pulled alongside his craft. The exterior hatch was blown in and five hulking figures emerged from the fog. He tapped his com-link and a squad of veteran deathwatch marines burst out of hiding, blasting apart the boarders with accurate bursts of las-guns. Beo and the marines along with a vindicare assassin hustled into the small craft and jettisoned their transport.  
  
After one week of silent travel, they reached to shattered hulks of the Cadian defense platforms. These once mighty hulks protected the planet below from orbital attacks for thousands of years. With an internal measurement of over eighty thousand square miles, they had been home to several regiments and the largest, the massive Glory of Cadia even boasted its own city, encased in a shell of adamintium and steel. The craft slipped into the launch bay of the largest one. Inside, the platform was bustling with life, teams of shock troopers readied their powerful hell-guns and hell pistols and normal guardsmen, the last survivors of the fleet and PDF troops readied their rebreathers and las-guns. Further back, they reached a large door which opened for a moment, and closed as soon as they got past it. They landed their ship and disembarked. A retinue of ultramarines entered with a shadowy figure in their midst. The shadowy figure stepped forward and the face of Captain Tiberius Silver tooth of the silver snakes stepped forward. After the formal introductions were over, the real planning began. An iris hatch situated on the far wall flicked open and two more figures entered the briefing room. One of the figures, the shorter one, sporting two holstered hell pistols and a battered chest plate. The other, a tall, thin sergeant was armed with a power fist and a power sword and had the crimson medallion pinned to his own chest plate which was even more battered then his comrade's. Outside the hidden fortress, the chaos fleet went on with their refit and repair work oblivious to the presence of an enemy stronghold in their midst. On the largest of the enemy ships, Niorank the blade master viewed the progress of the repair crews with growing impatience. On its shelf, his daemon sword shook and rattled with blood lust. It had been only a week since it had last tasted battle and already it was hungry. As the next page of the report was sent in his mood brightened and Niorank the blade master smiled. The infiltration shuttle was being loaded with men and their munitions for the upcoming mission, the pilots and crew all knew that this flight was vital to the Imperium and it may as well be their last. Beo stood in the shadows, calmly disassembling and reassembling his weapon, he had oiled it with the most sacred oils the tech- mages had and had it blessed seven times by the high confessor and the deathwatch chaplain. He stood up and walked over to his men. The finest snipers and assault troops that remained on Cadia stood before him. They were a motley bunch, with their armor pitted and scoured and fresh wounds tightly bound. They had fought their way through the hell of the Cadian war zone and had returned alive, with the scars and wounds to prove it. The augur scope in the corner blinked and the officers watching it hit the silent alarm. Within an instant, the lights and all but the ventilation systems shut down as another enemy ship passed outside. For seven terse hours they waited until the ship lost interest in the fleeing drone transports and continued on with its circuit of the system. At 1545 hours, standard imperial time, the transport set off. As it went past the armored doors, they saw the entire crew of the vessel saluting them as they went by, knowing that if they failed, they would also fail as it was their mission to revive the devastated Cadian shock troop regiments for when the counter push in several years. The swift vessel emerged from its armored cocoon and sped off towards the menacing Chaos battle fleet far in the distance. Niorank sank into his throne, casually flicking through a recent report. More and more imperial transports were popping up seemingly from nowhere. He grunted as he lifted his massive half ton frame from the throne and strode off towards his chambers. He had just entered his massive bedroom when he heard a thud and felt the floor rumble violently and then there was silence... Novice Friedson sprinted from the pod, combi-bolter in hand. His squad of shock troops jogged out behind him. Beo stowed his bolter and unlimbered his shot cannon from its case. He felt more impacts as the rest of the incursion fleet hit the ship. He hustled his squad to the rally point where they were to regroup with other squads and a deathwatch space marine company. On the walls were plastered signs from a forgotten age with slogans saying, "New for the year 2003, Drowning Pool's new cd 'Rip, Mix, Burn." Another urged "voters" to vote for "Bush, Cheney." As much as he would have liked to further study these artifacts from a lost time, he had to move on. His reverie was interrupted but a burst of gunfire followed by the clash of steel and crackle of a power field. Up ahead, Captain Tiberus Silver Tooth stood his ground against the Chaos Lord. His twin power sabers made by the most skilled tech-mages groaned in protest against the strain put upon them. His opponent, a skilled swordsman in his own easily parried the blows from the other marines and Cadians alike. His visor's alarm blared as a stray bolt hit him in the back. He staggered a few paces under the blow. His opponent took this opening to strike at his armor joint between his chest and torso plates, puncturing the seal and cutting through the thick power armor. The captain's augmented blood cells, filled with "Larraman Cells" rushed to the wound where the specialized Larraman Cells clotted the blood in 4.37 seconds. He felt a scab forming after a mere 6.21 seconds and the wound had fully healed in a total of 2 minutes and 43 seconds. When the wound was healed, his opponent was finished. Niorank, devotee of Khorne, patron of Chaos Undivided lay in a pool of rapidly spreading fluids. He felt his life flow from him and bellowed for a second until Khorne devoured his tainted soul. Beo ducked behind a support strut, desperately trying to remove a jam from his bolter. A shell had lodged in the barrel and he was in a fierce fire fight with a squad of mutated armsmen. Acting on some unbidden instinct, he threw his weapon at his opponents. The rifle detonated upon impact, its unexploded ammunition igniting and tearing into the closely packed squad. Beo rolled out of his cover, followed by the remnants of his platoon and advanced towards the bridge. High Lord Cornelius Erebus Vincit stalked towards the room where the all powerful High Lords of Terra Carried out the will of the Emperor. Only they knew what was going to happen in a few years and the repercussions it would cause. As the great adamintium doors swung open, his eyes beheld chaos. Hundreds of the shadowy Terran guard space marines flooded through a huge hole in the hundred meter thick armored roof and dozens of inquisitors examined the room for evidence. The body of High Lord El'Jonson was carried out by an honor guard of marines and aides. Erebus Vicit gasped as he realized the event was happening sooner then he thought.... CHAPTER 4: THE BATTLE  
  
"Huh? What?" -Hylan Larkin, sniper  
  
It was early morning on Beowulf's clock, but deep in the bowels of he Chaos Cruiser there was little light. His squad fanned out efficiently behind him, covering the upper galleries and various catwalks. Their casualties were relatively light, just a few gashes and minor fractures but all of the men could walk. None of the men knew that hundreds of feet above their heads, the situation was changing.  
  
Trooper Ryan fumbled in his pack for his ammo clips. His squad was pinned down by an unseen foe and his grenade launcher was needed. One of his friends flopped out of his meager cover with an odd wound on his arm. The gash was hissing and smoking and the arm itself was rapidly turning grey. The company's medic ran towards him, laser scalpel in hand. It was clear to all of the men that the arm would have to go, and within seconds, pfc. Jenkins had only one arm. As Ryan turned back around, he saw the face of death.  
  
Niorank, Bloodthirster of Khorne, master of the toothed blade stepped over the tattered remains of a pack of humans, he reveled in his new power, and with each passing second, his thirst for the blood of one unfortunate mortal was growing.  
  
Lord Castellan Urksar E. Creed and his body guard, Jarran Kell pushed the forces of the enemy back. It felt good to them and their men to be defeating the enemy after the loss of Cadia and most of the 8th Cadian Army. He neatly parried a poorly aimed blow from a petty officer and then neatly lobbed his head off, victory would be sweet.  
  
All over the five kilometer ship, the imperial advance was progressing. Most of the enemy's defense troopers had either been killed or found dead at their posts, many with huge claw marks and missing limbs. Things were about to go horribly wrong...  
  
As Beo clicked on his micro bead, a horrible sound blasted through them, causing his semi-organic implants to shut down. Helpless, and unable to warn the others, he began to restart his body. He feared that with out a tech-mage or apothecary, his limbs would necrotize and he would need new implants which were in dangerous short supply. As his augmetic heart failed, he prepared to meet his emperor...  
  
Halfway across the ship, Gregor Eisenhorn felt something that he had  
not in 3 years, a slip in the fabric of reality so large that it could  
only mean one thing; a huge Chaos fleet had just emerged from the  
warp. As he looked out of a porthole, this was verified not only was  
there an enormous fleet but it was being led by an gargantuan daemon  
that dwarfed the other ships  
  
Just as everyone thought it was the end, another warp point opened, this time from the Eye of Terror itself. Out of the breach poured thunderhawks, the strike vessels of the space marines, few had not heard of the rumor of a covert legion that hid inside of  
  
Chaos's stronghold. They had been following the battle group for three years waiting until they emerged into imperial space.  
  
Inside of the cruiser, another miracle was happening. Beo awoke from the inky blackness of death. He had a brief glimpse of a figure dressed in golden armor standing over him, fighting off a horde of bloated armsmen and rat like crew men. As he shakily regained his feet, the figure vanished leaving him alone with several hundred enraged enemies. To his surprise, he cut through them with great efficiency. Unbeknownst to him, his doom was approaching... CHAPTER5: The Daemon "Eldar, da uver white meat" -Ork from waagh gragskul  
  
Out in the airless depths of space, changer of ways, Trash'kal'ars greater daemon of Tzeneech let out a screech. It should have not have been heard, but all humans within 75 light years heard his rage. He had been imprisoned in an Eldar webway prison for over ten thousand years. He mused what might have happened in his millennia-long absence as his thin membranous wings propelled him to the distant fleet. To him, it wasn't the time that mattered, such trifles hardly warranted his attention be the fact that mere mortals had imprisoned him. Now, he was free and the galaxy would burn in the fires of Chaos!  
  
Chaplain Uriel Cassius head lexicanum of the warp ghosts astartes legion, holder of the medallion crimson gasped. The gigantic daemon 5 light years ahead was becoming hungry, they had little time now. He unbuckled his grav- ram harness and strode to the rows of waiting marines. As his sermon began, he could smell the static electricity building as the daemon channeled his rage into a spell, now time was truly running out...  
  
Within the hulk of the Glory of Cadia ensign Charles Leander watched in disbelief as a huge radar shadow approached the station. He was the first born son of one of the many noble houses of the infamous hive-city of Necromunda. He longed to be in the boarding assault, as he dearly wished to practice his saber skills once again. He rubbed his eyes and turned back to his console. It had only been four hours since the assault teams had departed and the stronghold was eerily quiet with out the hundreds of bustling soldiers. As Leander shakily activated the defense servitors, he knew his death was coming. He heard a commotion in the corridor outside and ran to the door, dozens of armsmen was sprinting towards the launch bay, as Leander returned to his post, he notices that there was a radar anomaly on the silhouette; several objects were nestled against the hull. Years of experience and the desperation of a man with nothing to lose gave his muscles the strength and his heart the courage to grab a weapon and unsheathe his power saver and join he fray. Maybe he would practice today.  
  
Niorank, daemon prince of Khorne, felt his rage rise as he felt the presence of a follower of tzeneech, those magical weaklings knew nothing of battle and with this thought, he punched a hole in the two meter thick wall of the ship and went out to meet this distraction. He would return to his original task in moments.  
  
From hundreds of thousands of miles away, it looked as if a meteor shower was approaching Cadia, as all of the combatants changed courses to better fight on solid ground. This would be the second time in mere weeks that Cadia would be wracked with a massive conflict. Little was it known to the two sides that there was a third army waiting for them on the planet's surface.  
  
As the strange fleets made ground fall on Cadia, each army wasted not a second in setting up base. The Glory of Cadia was swarmed with mechanics and combat engineers as it would soon be turned into a fortress. Similarly, the unnamed Chaos cruiser was also being stripped down for parts so the forces of Chaos could build their twisted buildings. Sensing a battle the swarm beneath awoke as one and prepared to feast on the unsuspecting humans above. Things were soon going to take a turn for the worst for both sides for below the surface something ancient and terrible was stirring... PART II: THE RECKONING  
  
As cities burn and armies turn and people hide and flee And the day seems to the enemy's power Would say it would be best to cower And fight some other day. But freedom is not free But you have your orders To fight for Him and in fact But remember what is said in quarters: It is best to fight and fall Never to have fought at all. For to fight and die Is much better to run or fly  
  
-verse from The Imperial Infantry Man's Uplifting Primer  
  
As the battle lines were drawn, a massive creature awoke beneath the planets oceans and in its cave, though numbering billions every part, from the lowliest hive spawn to the strongest tyrant had the same thought, the food was on the table.  
  
Trash'kal'ars sensed a disturbance in the warp flow. He had a faint memory of it but even his omnipotent mind could not place it. He hated when such reached out to his mind link, one mortal traits plagued him. He knew something was wrong but what? The five kilometer tall daemon fidgeted in his massive throne, once a fortress of these so-who called imperials. Yes, something was definitely wrong...  
  
Captain Ario Silver Tooth slept fitfully for the first time in his centuries long life. He had slept through the scourging of terra over ten thousand years ago. He was the commander of the second lost legion, The Silver Snakes. His was the first among the legendary space marines, and he was solely responsible for the Emperor's well being. At that thought his two hearts clenched, as he knew that while he was in cryo-sleep deep in the city-caves of Macharia, the Emperor and the twenty other primarchs fought and died. All this while he and ten thousand other of his brothers slept. He promised himself that this time it would be different.  
  
High Lord Cornelius Erebus Vincit found himself once again in the chamber of the Hallowed Twelve. He was rushed in here from an exhausted slumber and was only half awake. His twenty or so retainers fussed with his collar and straightened out his shirt until he shushed them all away. The main chamber was a bustle of activity, the highest ranking admirals, generals, assassins, and inquisitor generals thronged the enormous room, their faces contorted in frustration and anger. As he stepped further into the room, he was swamped with several dozen savants. These men and women were used solely because they had a brain disorder that made them compulsively seek information. When he finally reached his seat, he nearly fell at the image that was presented to him. This was definitely going from bad to worse.  
  
A cloaked figure shakily made his way to the palaces starship hangars. The figure remembered that the fastest ships ever made were kept in the massive shed. His limbs were heavy with lack of use but his muscles had not changed at all. With a swipe of his hand, the eight meter thick blast doors opened and The Emperor of Mankind stepped into the hangar.  
  
Beowulf stepped away from the trench wall. He had spent the past hour shoring up the walls to better withstand attacks. The sight of Imperial warships had brought the hiding citizens of Cadia out into the open. Alongside him were the youth army cadets and the children and wives of the men who had fought and died in the past few months. These people were used to losses, but the casualties suffered now were too much. Over 9 billion of Cadia's sons and daughters had been slain by the Despoiler. Their homes and lives were destroyed and the enemy had the boldness to come back. Beowulf sensed unquenchable flame o f anger in the minds of several and made a note to ask Chaplain Cassius to speak with them later. As he reached out with his mind to Terra, nothing happened, he was slightly worried that something was wrong. Little did he know that his salvation and doom were on their respective ways.  
  
Niorank flexed his talons, anticipating the battle to come, it was like the passage from the ancients' "books" where a group of feral warriors stood against the tides of orks from "mordor". He remembered that passage well, it told him to be wary even if the enemy were few in number, there was always a hidden danger waiting behind you. He sensed minds filled with anger and hatred and was pleased. At least these mortal weaklings would put up a good fight. Yes, the battle would be most pleasing.  
  
A small object plummeted out of the skies two megameters from the battle lines. Out of the twisted burning wreckage stepped a massive figure dressed in glowing armor. The figure struggled with something in the interior of the shuttle and withdrew a motorbike. After testing the engine and strapping extra fuel to the back, the figure mounted the cycle and sped off, motor revving. Only two people noticed this and they set off on their own bikes...  
  
The klaxons salvaged from the Glory of Cadia blared and hundreds of thousands of men, women and children rushed to the defenses they had finished hours ago. At first, there was only a dark smear on the horizon but after several minutes, several large shapes resolved out of the horde and may of the defenders uttered prayers to their emperor, few even imagined that he was only a thousand miles away. The citizens from dozens of planets and ways of life steeled themselves as one and waited for their fate.  
  
Beneath the surface another army was preparing itself for a mighty task. Theirs' was not for any cause good or evil, just or criminal, but to feed. They had been sleeping for over a month, and now, it was time to awaken. There was much food and there were over thirty million hungry stomachs. Anything that hindered them now was insignificant against such numbers, it was now time to feed.  
  
Ensign Callson and Private Ryans sped off in close pursuit of the mysterious figure. Both had survived the disastrous retreat to the boarding craft as the daemon appeared, their craft had been damaged in the wild flight away from the encroaching forces and they were the only survivors. They had seen the Imperial markings on the crashed pod and decided to follow the occupant. Both men hoped it was a good idea. Soon after, they loaded their few supplies onto the scout bikes and set off in the wake of the mysterious arrival. Neither man knew that their actions would alter the course of history.  
  
The Emperor felt something brush against his flesh. His ten thousand years imprisoned on a throne slowed his memory. W-I-N-D his ancient lips parting to say the word. That's what the felling was. He reveled in every sense. He rejoiced at the sound of his bikes engine, he fondly remembered the hilt of his power sword in his hand, and the rush of wind through his helmet. He had followed the signal of Beowulf's mid to this planet. The land was unfamiliar to him, covered in rubble and craters. He had been here before, thousands of years ago; it was he who had named the planet Cadia after an assassin in his close ring of friends. He remembered another of his "friends" his commander who was closer to him then a son, Horus, he was called the so-called favorite primarch of his own making. As his mind wandered, it picked up a trace of another of his "gene-sons" He searched his memory until the name of the warrior appeared. For the first time in ten millennia, the Emperor felt surprise.  
  
Chapter 6: The warrior  
  
"Inquisitors are sneaky devils, helpful, yes, even necessary, but I wouldn't buy a used aircar from one of them" - Captain Tiberus Silver Tooth II  
  
Captain Tiberus Silver Tooth limped from the wreckage of the shuttle. The pulped remains of several troopers still in their crash-harnesses after the shuttle hit a piece of debris during descent. He staggered forward a few more steps until he finally fell unconsciousness beckoning.  
  
As he fell, he heard the faint echo of a attack bike and the sounds of booted feet approach him. He could only pray that it was one of his comrades. As he finally blacked out, he felt himself lifted off of the ground, the last thing he felt were straps securing him into place...  
  
Chaplain Cassius Hurried over to the fallen marine. His chapter was known for their durability, taking hits with powerful weaponry and living to brag about it and tell the tale. This man wasn't so lucky. Most of his organs had been vaporized by the bio-plasma and the only reason he was alive was because of the blood left in his brain. The marine made no sound except for the prayers to the emperor that he would have his revenge against the creature in the otherworld. As Cassius approached the marine fell silent and accepted the litany of death, as the last words dissolved into the crescendo of battle, the marine allowed himself to die and Cassius stood back up. As he did so, he heard something behind him. He whirled around and drove his Crozius Arcanum into the skull of a Hive Tyrant and shifted his weight to face the others, he knew his death would be swift.  
Niorank swooped down towards the avian-like greater form of Tzeneech. He bellowed threats and promises of vengeance as he alighted on the lip of one of the hundreds of abandoned trenches built in the previous wars. The beaked face of his opponent turned towards him with an air of curiosity. His lipless and tongueless mouth opened and uttered a one syllable of power. Niorank found himself in the Ocularis Terribalius, known to mortals as the eye of terror. He was then carried towards two planets, adrift in space far from any stars or other planets. He knew this game well, each daemon would chose a planet and then connect the two chosen planets. Once this happened, exactly one half of the planets' population would seize arms and meet in the bridge joining the two planets. Once there, they would fight until the enemy's forces were utterly destroyed. This is what was daemons did to settle things in the warp, using their pawns to decide the outcome of major events or just petty arguments. As Niorank gathered his forces, he knew the other battle would have to wait. He marshaled his forces as the first waves crashed into the Imperial line, moved to trap his enemy as Captain Tiberus was revived by Private Ryans and Ensign Callson. He sealed the fate of his enemy's forces as Inquisitor Beowulf Friedson was engulfed by a horde of clawed and fanged bodies. He returned to the battle field as both original sides turned and fought against another even worse enemy. His fanged maw hung open as he watched a mob of chaos followers succumb to an even larger mob of enemies. He had been too busy following his own wants like a devotee of Slaanesh to notice that there was an even more glorious battle to fight. He returned to the warp with haste to summon an even larger army. He then knew that he may truly die on this battle ground. Strangely, he was not at all upset with that possibility...  
Officer Norte flicked a switch on the console of his vulture gun- ship. Where there was nothing but dirt and craters moments before there were hundreds of thousands of life signals, some impossibly large, he was about to radio command when a jarring impact shook his ship and sent it spiraling into the swarm below. Little did he or his crew know that they had taken first blood against the tyranid swarm. Meanwhile onboard the Glory of Cadia the radio crackled to life. "This is -audron beta –ha nine –spond!" "Glory of Cadia what is your situation?" "-ere are –ousands of them. Eight furies down. Evade, evade!" "Come in squadron leader, what is your situation?" Nothing. "Are you there? Respond damn you!"  
The only sound in the command deck was static and the frenzied wails of klaxons and sirens. As the lieutenant ran to the nearest console, the motion detector close defense station or MDCDS, he froze. What normally was a solid green screen with a few red dots was now a solid red screen. The heat meter was off the scale and the defenses around the perimeter of the fire base were on their last magazines. As he reached for the intercom he knew something else had gone very wrong indeed...  
  
The lictor crawled from its solitary den, it was located some ways away from the mass resting areas of the rest of the swarm. His complex olfactory nerves tested the air for some sign of prey and detected the scent of something in the gusting winds. He bounded off, no doubt in the company of dozens of his siblings, who were just tawny blurs to his multi- lensed eyes. They were hungry and they would feast. The frail humans would soon fall beneath his claws. He lunged forward, dismantling a heavy defense bunker with his bio-plasma and wolfed down the servitor gunners. One of his brood-kin exploded as one of the weapons found it within its sights and several more had light wounds. The lictor bellowed into the air and his brethren hurried forward, there were more important things to do and he had just picked up the hormone scent of one of the human's leaders. Very soon the war was going to end and he and his kin would be well fed indeed...  
  
In space things were also not going well, an imperial armada had just arrived in orbit at the same time as a chaos "wolf pack" As both sides picked up the radar signatures, the ground war was forgotten and another more destructive battle was joined. The Lord Solar Macharius rolled and unleashed a punishing broadside against the enemy cruiser. The Dauntless class destroyer had seen hundreds of battles and its crew were highly trained and rigorously drilled. The enemy ship attempted a futile counterattack but the Macharius easily avoided it. As a wave of torpedoes hit the chaos ship's command deck, the captain of the Macharius searched his scopes for another target, trying to get his mind off of the battle below  
Beowulf raised his sidearm, the armor-piercing weapon he had selected months earlier for his original mission and blew a hole in the meter thick hide of a leviathan meters away from the trench line. They had been surrounded in seconds, the tyranids appearing seemingly from thin air cutting off half of the other part of the army. Fanged and clawed monsters had swarmed out of the ground, tearing into the surprised forces of the imperials and renegades alike. Whole platoons were scattered in the living tide and most communications were futile, blocked out by the psychic static released from the Hive-mind. Among the swarm were glimpses of uniforms. Several whole regiments of mind-slaves, guardsmen and women whose minds had been taken over by that of the swarm, they unwittingly killed their former comrades in a frenzied mind-sleep. Further along the walls, a gigantic beast blew apart, targeted by seven different artillery batteries. Beowulf noticed that several dozen mind-slaves looked around dazed at where they were before running for cover along their reunited comrades. With his mind, Beowulf sent a message to his troopers, a sudden thought in the troopers' brains told them to shoot at the largest beasts. As one, the imperial line flashed with volley fire while the heavy weapons unleashed their ground- shaking munitions upon the tyrants and other commanders. As the battle raged, the wheels of fate began to turn once again.  
  
Niorank soared above the conflict. Below him, dozens of other lesser daemons glided on the updrafts created by the flames of the combat. A cloud of aliens tore through the sky toward him and his retinue. With a guttural growl, his guards engaged the beasts in mid-air combat, tearing, shooting and slashing at the weaker creatures. He saw the chaos line falter in one area and bestowed the gift of blood thirst on the defenders. Immediately, the once normal men had the strength of hundreds. The bezerkers rushed forward into the tyranid line, offering their deaths to Khorne. Above Niorank, a rift in reality opened and started to grow...  
  
"glug" – Tyranid Hive Tyrant after facing Beowulf in a duel  
  
Captain Silver Tooth woke strapped to a side car. The design was unfamiliar to him and as he turned, he realized that it was not a motor bike, but an anti-grav speeder. Beside him, a warrior in golden armor deftly piloted the vehicle at super-sonic speed, ignoring the near misses of hundreds of rocks. Ahead, he saw a black smear upon the expansive plains. He felt his blood slow a he saw another even larger smudge suddenly boil up from the ground right behind the other forces. As he became fully awake, he twisted himself around and saw for the first time in ten millennia the face of his master. AS he twisted to his right, he saw two normal soldiers, and one a bloodied and burnt trooper who had obviously had seen previous conflict, the other was a raw veteran. This was his first action and it had changed him greatly, though not even old enough to shave, he had wounds covering his left side and what looked to be giant claw marks running along his back. Both men manned two massive turrets mounted on either side of the vehicle. Suddenly the younger man's gun roared to life, smashing apart a cliff side and sending a purple and black shape plummeting towards the ground. Two, three, four more salvoes rang out until all that was left of the thing was some scaled lumps of steaming flesh and scattered blue viscera. As the craft surged forward he rose to his feet and drew his swords forged out of the mythical black ore...  
A FLASHBACK  
"Whoa, heavy"  
-Orlock Juve  
It was a hard fought campaign. Dozens of marines falling to the heretical power bows of the secessionists and other malcontents. After a pitched space battle, the dusty planet below was open for them to sweep in and claim it in the emperor's name. As the golden shuttle alighted on the plains, a missile swooped out of the smoke, it struck the Emperor directly in the helmet but miraculously, he did not fall, his aura of invincibility held. He staggered back five steps, his armor ripping apart under a blow that was meant to kill a tank. Accurate bolter fire reached into the smoke, seeking out the offenders like an ice-cat seeking a mouse hidden in its den. When it was judged to be safe, the emperors own hover tank was unloaded and sent towards the nearest city. Many strange things happened in that city, named Verghast IV. One of his twin swords was forged there by a humble smith who would later become the first High Lord of Terra. In his forges, two swords began to take form. One was a viciously sharp two-ended weapon, with a strange inscription on it. But the most interesting weapon was the third. Made of pure Adimantium it emitted a permanent stream of lava that ended at the hilt, one man knew exactly how it was made and he was dead. Now that the three blades were reunited, their owners' power would multiply and much carnage and destruction would grace the plains of Cadia that has not been witnessed since the Age of Iron-men.  
  
CHAPTER 7 THE BLADES UNITE  
  
" YOU " -Sergeant Svenson to tyranid hormagant  
  
Smoke coiled lazily up from the blasted remains of the redoubt A-771. It seemed as a high power shell had punched through the concrete roof but instead of black smoke, this smoke was green. A mammoth creature had floated towards the bunker and launched a spore towards the preoccupied defenders. In a flash of sickly green pus, their skin sloughed off their bones and then even their bones dissolved into ash. Seventeen men and women of the 555th Valhallan regiment perished within. Now led by the enthusiastic and fiery Sergeant Svenson, the ragged remnants stumbled through blood, mud and spent shells to their assigned fall-back points. Overhead, lightning and vulture gunships dueled with lethal airborne beasts supported by the most unlikely of wingmen. Renegades fought alongside imperials in a swirling dance of battle, blood matted furies threw themselves at the biggest monster they could find. Although the majority of both forces were ignoring each other, there were some chaos-imperial battles scattered in the more peaceful pockets. While there still was a respite, Svenson hustled his troops further back along the line desperate to save as many as he could. Very few of the fifty or so troops were even in his platoon, but were scattered remnants of Cadian, Macharian and Valhallan troops who had no leaders and sought refuge in the now bombed or whatever that thing was out bunker. As he had learned from past experiences they would most definitely come back. His blood turned to ice as he heard a piercing screech arise from just ahead; signaling that their way to safety was cut off. With a rueful grin, Svenson drew his battered chainsword and rallied his troops once more. He would most likely put in some overtime today.  
  
Just as Niorank touched down, he felt something was wrong. The air had a strange metallic taste and suddenly he had been victim to a massive headache, he decided to see what was happening and left his followers to fight for themselves against the overwhelming tide.  
  
All over the battleground, psykers, vox operators and those attuned to the warp felt the same strange presence, some claimed to have visions of fire, ice, and night forming as one into the shape of a two bladed sword while others claimed to have been witness to the birth of a Titan of war. No matter how different the visions were the answer was clear, something of unparalleled magnitude and power was about to be born. Many fled into caves and other holes where they sought shelter while others steeled themselves for the seismic backlash of the future event. The three blades would soon unite...  
  
FIRE, ICE, AND NIGHT: THE FINAL CHAPTER  
  
"Something really big is happenin' I don't know what but it's bad." -anon. soldier  
  
Beowulf ducked under another furious attack and parried a blow from his opponent's twin. He was backed into a corner, fighting for his life against two alpha lictors the leaders of the two hundred strong pack that had hit his position, drawn from his aura of leadership. He suppressed an ironic laugh when he thought of the thousands of people most older then him that followed his every order. It was surprising that they should follow an untested nineteen year old novice in such a gigantic and frenzied battle. It was only four or five days ago that he had landed on the planet, catching precious minutes of sleep between skirmishes and hacking through legions of enemies. His muscles burned, growing twice their size during that time, he now could lift 66 kilos, 2/3 of his own body weight and even his psychic muscles had improved. His mind was spinning, suddenly he took a blow to the shoulder, then one to the helmet, and then a vicious swipe at his stomach left his sprawled on the ground, bleeding from a horrible gash in his side. As the beasts lifted their claws to finish him, a blur of motion caught his eye. In seconds, a spout of molten metal erupted from the largest of the beasts head, and then its brother's body was cleaved in half. As he groggily rose to his feet, Beowulf saw two figures. One was encased in golden armor and had a face that seemed eerily familiar; the other was clad in silver armor and carried two swords, one jet black and the other made of silver. Both figures moved like quicksilver, parrying and stabbing faster then the mortal eye could follow. Dozens of beasts fell in seconds, their blue-black blood staining the dust beneath them. A nimbus of power surrounded the warrior in the golden armor and occasionally, streams of light would surge from it to strike a foe out of sword distance. He unsteadily rose to his feet, clutching at his wound, a third figure, clad in white armor bounded through the melee towards him. The medic applied a topical anesthetic and patched up the wound with a flash cloned bandage. As he reached down for his sword and sidearm, he noticed several strange shapes circling in the sky above him. His blood froze as he recognized the face of the daemon prince that he had supposedly killed on the chaos ship a week ago. Sensing his gaze, the creature signaled his companions and swooped to alight in front of Beowulf. The ground liquefied beneath the creature and his malformed retinue as they approached Beowulf and his comrades. The three largest daemons stepped forward one for each of the human warriors. The beasts moved like quick silver, but the Emperor and His two warriors were faster, as they stepped below the blades and thrust at the black hearts of their enemies. Again and again the daemon prince sent forth his brethren and again and again did they fall, succumbing to the power of the three legendary blades. Finally the Daemon Prince stepped forth. He drew his glowing sword, lit from within by malevolent power. Beowulf went out to face him, unsheathing his burning blade, repeating the catechism of the death bringer beneath his breath  
  
"I am the blade of light, I am the flaming las shot, I bring death to the emperor's foes" the lines were repeated over and over in Beowulf's head, growing into a choir of angry voices. Some of the voices were those of the men and women killed on Cadia, their souls floating about the twisted landscape, watching their enemies inevitable destruction, others were those of Beowulf's family and friends, one was strangely close and sounded like his old friend Ibram Gaunt. Suddenly the voices stopped and Beowulf rushed at the daemon faster then he had ever run before. His sword flashed and something thudded to the ground.  
  
Niorank the Blademaster couldn't feel his legs. He lay face first in the mud wondering why he could not move his arms either, something fell next to him and he twisted his head to see it. His taloned hands lay writhing in agony, rapidly dissolving into nothing, his legs were still standing they too dissolving. Niorank felt dread for exactly 4 and one half seconds before oblivion claimed him.  
  
Beowulf fell, utterly spent, as his vision flickered he saw the crimson sash of a commissar and flashes of golden and silver armor supporting his body and carrying him away, before he blacked out, he saw the emperor walking off into the distance, slowly fading away...  
  
Back on Terra, things were not improving. It had been a hectic week and so many thousands of things had gone wrong. It had started with the assassination of High Lord El Johnson as well as the Emperor's vital signatures flat-lining. It had been extremely taxing to keep the population from knowing this. They had removed the Galaxy wide circuit's site that kept a constant update and had removed all propaganda reporters from Terra. As yet another commotion arose in the lobby; High Lord Erebus swallowed two sleep substitution pills and briefly glanced at the holo-portrait of his father looking for support in his stone-like features.  
  
Once again Beowulf was tumbling through a void. Bizarre images flashed in front of him. He hurtled past a magnificent space battle, dozens of ships twirling in space, their hulls fragmenting. Seconds later he was on some desert planet floating above massive sand dunes. Ahead he saw a glowing door, with a figure in mint green waving him in. He saw rather then felt several jarring impacts as the figure in the stretcher went through the door, into the room.  
  
Chief Medic Ofal Calon hurried strapped on his medical issue mark 7 rebreather and rushed the twitching bloodied form of an inquisitor into the operating theatre. He had several dozen minor wounds, half of his face was completely torn off and his spinal cord had been severely damaged causing his augmetic arm and leg to jerk spasmodically. This operation did not look hopeful but this man had been seen fighting a greater daemon and had fallen immediately after banishing it from the mortal plane. Ofal reached down instinctively to pull up his Aquila and bring it to his head in a blessing. Beside the wounded man were a marine chaplain and a crowd consisting of a commissar, a lieutenant and several naval armsmen. He shooed them away and sealed the doors, creating a vacuum in which no infectious bacteria could enter. He then turned to the tech-mage and ordered him to start the stasis field. He felt time slow as the ancient machine coughed to life. He wiped his diamond edged scalpel before he set to work.  
  
Things did not look optimistic for Beowulf. A large crowd had gathered in the viewing chamber of the hospital. Some were preachers, others were officers, and still others were common soldierly there to support the figure who had given them the strength to fight against both the numberless tyranids and the foul renegades at the same time. The battle was over, the renegades vanishing when their leader, a massive avian like daemon had disappeared and with him the entire tyranid swarm. Now all that was left was to locate those who went missing and search for other survivors in the ruins of the Cadian cities. As the fog of battle cleared and the flames were put out one by one hundreds of hover ambulances and medical chimeras descended onto the battle field. It was the time of war all commanders hated the most, when the casualties started pouring in. High above, the psyche of Captain Tiberius floated above the blasted plain. He paid little attention to the events below while he focused on how he was able to see and think while he had no physical form. He set about searching for his corpse in the same state of shell shock as a soldier who had just lost an arm. He wandered aimlessly thinking how he was able to. He was just about to form a hypothesis when he saw his body. It was still mostly intact but lay at the center of a massive crater. The marine captain suddenly saw a golden form standing over his body and felt himself sucked in by a ethereal current.  
  
In one such ambulance a young orderly named Martin Skarl stood mouth agape on the rim of a massive crater. It was not the crater itself that amazed Martin but what lay in the center of it. What he saw was the unconscious form of Captain Tiberius, still holding the blades of Fire and Ice. The two swords had formed a field of power just as the vortex had sucked in the tyranids and daemon. He had blocked when he saw a laden ammunition leviathan tank hurled through the air directly at him. The leviathan was of the omega class, fully sixty meters high and with a width of a staggering one hundred meters. It was amphibious and could carry up to sixteen million rounds of any caliber and up to six thousand men. The concussion of the blast had hurled him into a rock, breaking his concentration and he had blacked out, his autosenses in his helmet shutting down to preserve his eyes and ears from sensory overload. As Martin and his driver stumbled down the rocky slope he began to awaken...  
  
EPLIOGUE:  
  
Grand Master Beowulf Friedson lay on the bed, his arms and legs elevated on a suspensor pad. He had barely made it through the grueling three day surgery and still needed a repeat surgery to repair the damage done to his central nervous system. Next to his bed were a copy of the Imperial infantry Man's Uplifting Primer and a copy of Saint Sebastian Thor's Sermons. His bed table was filled with tooth necklaces, suits of ornate armor and other gifts worthy of a primarch. He heard the shouts of several dozen orderlies in the hall and shifted his bruised and painful face towards the door. The door burst open and several inquisitors strode in accompanied by a terrified orderly. The leader of the pack, the one in blood red armor approached his bed. As he came to the bed side he knelt and presented a golden data-slate. As Beowulf opened the slate, someone else entered the room. It was not so much a person as it was a servitor. The man had no face, only a metal mask and was also lacking arms and legs, themselves identical to Beowulf's own. As he read the slate, the realization hit him straight between the eyes. He was looking at his childhood friend, Hoald Sacion. He had been presumed lost when the shelter in which he and Beowulf hid in was swarmed over by hive spawn, little creatures that could strip a human to bone in seconds. He had been rescued by an Ultramarine captain and had been taken into the chapter after besting a hormagaunt in single combat. He was the captain of the Glory of Cadia, and had been the one who had orchestrated the entire operation. Beowulf saw the tears in his friend's single eye and realized that there was much more to learn. He opened the next file on the slate. It was a letter from the Centurion, he explained in detail that he was an ancestor of Beowulf. He told of the exploits of other ancestors, some of them had been Admirals in the fleet, others generals. One name stood out, it was his second cousin, Delane Oktar. His friend, Ibram Gaunt had sent him a message that had contained that name. His family had a very illustrious history, but Beowulf wondered why no-one had ever told him. Why had his father been a ordinary trooper. As he read further, he understood, his family had made many enemies and the reason for his hidden past was for his protection. As he opened the final page, his entire life began anew...  
  
Don't miss the next story: The Longest Day!  
The sound of steel on steel rang throughout the ship. The main group of boarders had forced their way into the hangar and ran directly into the drilling storm troopers. That battle did not last very long. But elsewhere, things were not so fortunate for the Imperials as enemy reinforcements continued to pour from the distant fleet. Things looked very grim indeed for the imperials as another ship slipped quietly past the dueling behemoths 


End file.
